After nearly two hours on the sick-smelling Greyhound bus, Jessica drank in the brisk June breeze coming off the mountains at Glacier Lodge. The ride had been depressing. With no car and now no cousin, she’d had to buy a one-way bus ticket.
On the ride over the Rocky Mountains, she couldn’t quit thinking about Mike, mutilated by the debarking machine. It made her want to puke. She should’ve paid more attention when he’d tried to tell her about foul play at the mill.
She thought of the Butterfly Effect, how a tiny action like the fluttering of a butterfly in New Zealand could have a huge impact across the globe. She wondered if she was the butterfly, mindlessly flapping, not realizing the deadly effects of her actions on others. Seemed like wherever she went, death followed.
Wiping the t
